


Aurora Borealis

by omphale23



Category: due South
Genre: Challenge fic, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-15
Updated: 2010-03-15
Packaged: 2017-10-08 00:21:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/70779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/omphale23/pseuds/omphale23
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The thing was, Ray figured he'd look pretty hot as a bush pilot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Aurora Borealis

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry, tried for hot sex but my Ray voice kept getting distracted and wandering off. There's some implied Fraser-laying, though. For the **get_fraser_laid** challenge, prompt: # 48, sunglasses.

Here's the thing: it was Ray's vacation, and if he wanted to sit up all night in the dark, waiting for the Northern Lights to appear (and he didn't care what Ben said, it was possible that they would show up and the clouds might blow over and then he'd be able to see them) well, if he wanted to sit up all night, he would.

Who cared if the moon was full and too bright to see them, and the weatherman predicted rain? They still might appear. Stranger things had happened. Hell, stranger things had happened to them. Last week, for instance, that bunch of Shriners had caused a riot outside the OTB because they insisted on betting against the Hawks. All those little cars and shiny hats thrown all over the street, that was strange.

Much stranger than Ray sitting out in the cold and staring up into the dark.

Anyway. This cabin wasn't home, and it wasn't nearly far enough north for Ben's taste (and since when had the lack of trees been something to shoot for? Hell, Chicago lacked trees, but Ben hardly saw that as a selling point) but it was in the middle of nowhere, at the end of a dirt track and surrounded by absolutely nothing. The perfect vacation spot, right?

Just thick wooden walls, windows on four sides, and the lake so close that Ray could sit in bed and (if his arms were five feet longer, and there weren't window screens to keep out the evil little blackflies from the planet itchy-scratchy) touch the water. Nothing but trees and raccoons and fish and (maybe) a bear keeping them up at night.

And those damn loons. How could anyone think that it was a good idea to put those things on a coin? They were freaky, that's what they were. Crazy loud, too, and those beady little eyes couldn't possibly be normal.

So it was a bit noisier out here than Ray expected. That explained why Fraser was able to function in Chicago even with that freaky hearing he had—turns out the great outdoors wasn't as silent as you'd expect. Louder than the nature shows made it seem, but peaceful anyway. Quiet and loud at the same time, if that was possible.

And sure, tonight it was cloudy, but usually the sky was clear. So fucking clear, and the stars he could see from here were bright, crisp, glittering, and there were so many of them that he put his glasses on to see them without the telescope. They were brilliant. Absolutely genius, whoever's idea the stars were.

Unfuckingbelievable, that such things existed in a universe that would leave Ben alone, and lonely, and afraid to ask Ray for any of the things that Ray would have willingly given in a heartbeat.

Ray stood up and walked to the edge of the lake, glass and dark and reflecting the moon like a mirror. Even the beach was strange, all granite and lichen (kind of sucked that pineapple wouldn't grow this far north, because free pizza toppings growing in the front yard would be a great perk) and no sand to sink his toes into. But there were a hell of a lot of skipping stones, so he had something to fidget with.

Ray would give anything, now and always, (and maybe he'd need to quit his job and learn to drive a truck or fly a plane or hell, cut hair) if that's what it took to convince Canada that it needed him. To convince one particular Mountie that Ray wasn't going anywhere he couldn't see the Aurora Borealto, or whatever it was called. All Ben needed to do was ask, and Ray was going to buy a one-way ticket to BFE, Canada.

The loons thought it was a good idea, if the sudden racket was any clue. Or maybe he shouldn't have thrown that rock into the lake.

The thing was, Ray figured he'd look pretty hot as a bush pilot. He could get a new leather jacket, and maybe some new sunglasses, prescription ones that would let him read the gauges but still look good pushed back on top of his head. Ben would like that, Ray flying a plane during the day and coming home at night, strutting up the Canadian version of a front walk with those shades and his best air-conditioned jeans and his old motorcycle boots.

He'd probably only get to the porch before Ben would be all over him, kissing and biting and pushing Ray up against the door to lick his neck.

Would they have neighbors? No, they'd live in some out-of-the-way clearing, just them and some of those dogs with the vampire eyes. So, no neighbors to glance out the window and make Ben nervous. That was good.

After the licking, when Ray was ready to turn the tables a little and give Ben a taste of his own medicine, they wouldn't have to go inside. They could just sprawl out on the porch and Ray would peel Ben out of his shirt and his pants and those boxers (would they be starchy? Nah, he only starched them because he couldn't control anything else. Out in the middle of nowhere, maybe he wouldn't wear any at all. And hey, looked like Ray's dick was suddenly taking an interest in events) and where was he again?

Boxers. Or no boxers. Just Ben, laid out on the floor as Ray crawled up him, licking a path from Ben's knee to his inner thigh to his navel to his neck. Trailing his tongue along the bottom of Ben's ribcage, laying kisses across his chest and into the hollow behind his ear. Ray could taste the hair at Ben's temples, taste that clean sweat that came from hiking between trees instead of fire escapes.

And picturing that, Ben laid out naked and Ray still wearing his jeans and jacket and some great sunglasses, made Ray want to go in and jump Ben and beg him to take a posting in back-of-beyond-atuk tomorrow.

Or get a blanket, and lay out in the yard (or what passed for a yard—it was more of an opening under the trees, covered in that fluffy brown stuff that wasn't dirt but wasn't mulch, either) and get naked so they could commune with nature. And each other. Ray was all about the communing. He wanted to commune with Ben on the porch, and in the woods, and maybe in the lake (or maybe not, because the loons seemed to take a disturbing interest in that sort of thing, if Tuesday morning was any evidence) and hey, just for variety, they could do some communing on the bed.

Because up here, in the cold and the dark and the silence (and, again, it wasn't really silence at all, it was damn noisy between the loons and the wolves and the little rattling things that kept wandering around the forest and scaring the shit out of Ray every time he tried to, well, use the facilities) Ray maybe didn't need to hide from what he wanted. He could maybe even hear what Ben needed, out here. He just needed to listen the right way.

Ray shivered. Time to get out the parkas, maybe—it was certainly getting too cold to sit on the porch in a sweater and stare at the sky. As he started to stand, a blanket settled around his shoulders and a steaming thermos hit the step beside him. Ray looked over to find Ben's face turned to the stars, his eyes open wide. "How long are you going to wait?"

"As long as it takes," Ray replied.


End file.
